Happy Father's Day
by Hannaadi88
Summary: America and Canada want to surprise their fathers on that special day dedicated to them. But it seems that England has his own plan. . .


Happy Father's Day

.~.

* * *

"Matthew, come 'ere for a sec!"

The Canadian turned around in surprise, not quite sure if he had heard correctly. Was someone actually calling him? The forgettable, unnoticeable Canada? Seeing his elder brother looking at him expectantly, Matthew's hesitant smile broadened as he ran over to his sibling, still standing next to his usual seat at the oval meeting table.

A grin plastered on his face, America motioned for his brother to sit down. But before the Canadian could take his seat properly, Alfred pulled his hand in excitement, causing the other to bend over the table uncomfortably. Matthew sucked in his stomach and tried to hide the slight pain his sibling had caused him. "Yes, Alfred?"

Alfred turned his head to search the room for any other nations that may have been hiding, waiting to hear what he had to say. Not that he could blame them, after all- everyone would want to hear what he had to say. But this time, it was top-secret, so he could not risk being overheard. Satisfied with the apparent lack of presence in the room, aside from himself and his brother, he bent down and whispered into the Canadian's ear.

"Mattie, d 'ya know what day it is today?" his younger brother looked at him blankly, not showing any signs of understanding. America sighed in irritation at the other's lack of knowledge. Then again, not everyone was as awesome and heroic as he was, so he could hardly blame him. He licked his lips and continued whispering, a slight blush creeping into his cheeks. Excitement could be heard in his voice. "It's Father's day today, silly! And you know what that means. . ."

Matthew's eyes brightened in realization and smiled. _Father's day, eh?_ And yet, he couldn't figure out what Alfred was trying to hint to him. He asked, saying that he did not know what it meant, or why the day was so special. The response he got was the loosening of his hand and a shake of the head.

"We are going to get our old men a present, since that is what people do on Father's day, duh. And I've got the greatest idea ever. . ."

.0.

Francis Bonnefoy sat down on his living room couch, reading a book. A sudden knock on the door stirred him from the trance the piece of literature in his hands had put him in. Really, there was nothing like French classics. He looked towards the Englishman that had 'happened by' earlier that day (not that he actually wanted to end up at the Frenchman's house, _but of course) _that now claimed residence in his armchair, stitching at his embroidery. When they were not fighting, they seemed to be able to keep a pleasant balance. As long as neither of them spoke, that is.

Setting the hardcover down on the coffee table, the Frenchman stood up and walked towards the door, opening it to reveal an almost identical pair of blonds. "Alfred, Matthew! _Bienvenue_!" he ushered them in and closed the door. He called out to the British nation. "We have guests, _mon petit lapin_!"

"For the last time, I am not your rabbit," Arthur grumbled as he set down the piece of cloth. He was hoping to have some time alone with Francis that day, but it seemed that it was not meant to be. He inwardly groaned as his eyes found the obnoxious American.

"What do you want, Alfred?"

The American pouted, pulling his brother closer. He decided to ignore the Englishman for the moment and instead addressed his French relation that had resumed sitting down on the couch.

"Well, Mattie and I just wanted to give you guys something for Father's day, but only good fathers get presents," America added as an afterthought, "But if a certain _someone _admitted to my awesomeness, perhaps he will get his present as well."

England blinked in surprise as he finally noticed Matthew. How could he have not taken notice of his younger son before? He was about to greet the Canadian when Alfred commented about him specifically. He scowled. "No bloody way I am going to acknowledge your self-proclaimed titles, 'Merica."

Matthew was about to intervene and say something about how it was okay, and that everyone will get his or her presents when the American shrugged. "Fine then. No present for you."

Without further ado, Alfred rushed to the Frenchman and handed him a crudely wrapped box with a triumphant grin. The Canadian approached his father with a shy smile and presented him with his own gift, bending quickly to give him a peck on the cheek before walking over to the Englishman and performing the same ritual.

Francis chuckled. "_Merci, __mes enfants_." He unwrapped the American's present while said nation walked up to the Englishman and dumped on his lap an identical package. "But since I'm a hero and heroes are generous, here ya go."

Arthur huffed but opened the box nevertheless. Both parents found a shirt with the initials 'NYC' printed in the middle of a big, red heart. Alfred beamed as his elders looked at their gift in confusion.

"I know that everyone loves New York, so I thought I would get you guys something you were bound to love."

The Frenchman nodded in amusement while Arthur shook his head while placing his hand on his brow in frustration. Matthew cleared his throat and smiled slightly. "I hope you like my gift. . ."

Francis and Arthur looked at each other in surprise. They had forgotten the discarded boxes on their laps. "O-of course! We will, won't we?" the Englishman stuttered, coloring slightly and ashamed that he had forgotten about the Canadian's presence once again. Francis was just as uncomfortable as he nodded in agreement and hurried to unwrap his gift.

Two little snow globes with the words 'Father' and 'Papa' in the middle glinted from inside the boxes. A polar bear seemed to hug and support the white letters from the inside.

"Oh wow, Mattie! That's totally cool!" Matthew blushed at the compliment. His parents voiced their approval as well. The siblings took a seat and helped themselves from a platter of cookies that had been baked earlier on by the Frenchman.

After a few more minutes in which Alfred boasted about how he was going to fix a certain oil spill that was disrupting his peace at the moment, the American stood up and grabbed Matthew's hand, pulling him out the door. "Well, gotta go! We still have a world to save!" Before the Canadian could say anything, though, the door slammed behind him.

The two nations were left to stare blankly at each other. "That was. . . interesting. . ._non_?" Arthur didn't even bother to answer. He went back to his previously abandoned embroidery, working on it at furious speed. Francis shrugged and went back to his book.

"Ah, Francis?"

The Frenchman looked up from his hardcover and let his gaze fall on the now blushing Englishman. He was holding his hands behind his back, a pout on his lips. Francis reclined and grinned at the flustered man beside him. "_Oui_?"

Arthur, his blush increasing, breathed in. "Get up, please."

A single French brow lifted in curiosity as he slowly stood up and moved closer to his rival. "Like this, _mon cher_?" he asked, smirking as he saw Arthur bite his lip as he gazed at him in concentration. The Englishman, in turn, huffed and pulled his hands from behind his back, revealing a blue sweater. He placed the cloth on the Frenchman's frame and helped him with the sleeves. Then, taking a few steps back, he admired his work.

Oh, yes. He was quite handy with a needle and thread, if he did say so himself. He had stitched a neutral red pattern on the front of the sweater, and the entire affect lay nicely on the Frenchman's body.

_Fuck, it looks great on him. . ._

Before he could think it through, Arthur pulled Francis by the newly knit cloth and kissed him, the blush now coloring his ears. Francis overcame his surprise in a matter of seconds and responded hungrily to the kiss, raising his hands to run through the other's blond hair, entwining his fingers in the sandy locks.

Eventually pulling back, England took a shallow intake of breath before resting his arms around France's shoulders, leaning in so that his lips ghosted the Frenchman's ear.

"Happy Father's Day, frog."

* * *

_Hanna Chan's Blah-Blah Corner;_

_Hey everyone! Long time no see! ^^ Here is a short something I wrote for PrussianAwesomeness, a totally awesome gal who did moi a huge favor. Unfortunately, this little gift of gratitude is not as good as it could be, since I'm a bit rusty ^^' _

_In any case, this being a request, I did not come up with the general outline. *nods* I hope you enjoyed! Please review, if you liked it :D_

_-Hanna_


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